The son of Madara
by Rikudou Naruto
Summary: Displeased with the future of a baby. The Shinigami interferes with the fate of a child, and that child's life is completely changed. An old acquaintance will win the chance to raise an heir. The union of these two forces of nature will forever change the shinobi world. Naruto gray ... handler ... EMS and Rinnegan.
1. Chapter 1

**I do not own Naruto.**

_**My community C2: Rikudou Naruto.**_

_**Author: Rikudou Naruto.**_

_**Beta - Reading: Arcross.**_

**Sentence of the chapter.**

_In the presence of fools and madmen, there is only one way to show our intelligence: do not talk to them **- Arthur Schopenhauer.**_

**First chapter. V2**

* * *

_Destination—the force that moves our lives for a purpose. But, does fate really exist? There is only one way we settle for waiting for something. So, is fate forged by forces beyond our understanding, or ourselves?_

_**Senju Hashirama, Shodaime Hokage.**_

* * *

Limbo.

A trapped void that knew no bounds; refuge to the failures of ascendance. Here they wandered, lingered, waited in the silent vacuum of space; they could do nothing, merely existing in the dark crawls of infinity, but to await a pending judgment. If it ever came.

He was different, however.

God among men, veteran of the clan wars, founding forefather. Yet among that famed glory,_ betrayed_—by his own flesh and blood. His supposedly proud and loyal kinsmen took up arms against him; they were content with existing on the sidelines, all in service to his old rival. Did they not understand?

Their beliefs, those ideals, that fighting spirit… they called it Hi no Ishi.

How absurd.

Unlike his false brethren, he stayed true to his ancestors before him; he fought for his name's sake—for the_ clan's_ sake.

They—he and his all too familiar adversary—had clashed until they tore the earth beneath them asunder. Their display of combat had reshaped the land around them, transforming once-lush forestry into a forsaken wasteland built upon hate and despair.

In the end, the heavens wept for the world's loss._ His_ loss.

He had been angry at first—furious even—at his own failure, but that hatred had shortly dissolved into emptiness. He had soon realized that he died with regrets; to have not been courted by a fair and worthy maiden; to not have fathered any prodigious children or grandchildren; to have not mentored any promising disciples or apprentices to carry on his will.

Uchiha Madara would be nothing more than some transient and fleeting memory, for little would remember his deeds in life. They called it not being… Immortalized.

He mulled those thoughts over like a broken record; all in mono.

* * *

The Shinigami was absolutely livid as it watched the events that had recently unfolded before the world. The deity was not angry that its most recent payment was half of the chakra belonging to an almighty bijū, nor was it the little extra tip that came in the form of the one who had last beseeched its services. What it was furious about instead was the receiver at the end of the bargain.

The Shinigami and Kami had bestowed their blessings long ago to one individual with the power to reshape the fate of the world. As of recently, that individual was now poisoned with the ultimate burden—to imprison a bijū. The Shinigami cursed at the contract it was bound to, the same contract that forced it to seal the final half of the bijū into the chosen one. That complicated many things for the two deities; no, it changed _everything._

It now condemned the chosen one to live a pitiful excuse of an existence, fated to meet a grisly end at the hands of his so-called comrades—to die alone and cold in a puddle that once coursed through his veins. But before that: societal isolation, prolonged suffering and then countless betrayals.

The Shinigami's features dripped into a ghastly scowl as it was given brief visions of the chosen one's future. The deity refused to allow it and Kami's efforts be for naught, something had to be done. The death god could not directly intervene with the turn of events, but fortunately, nothing dictated that others couldn't. But, who would be fitting for the role?

_…Uchiha Madara._ Yes, that was the man's name; the Shinigami had nearly forgotten it with the countless dead in limbo. Had it not been for the forefather's deep regrets during his time in purgatory, the death god would have not paid it the time of day to even consider learning his name.

Flashes of clan lord's possible influence upon the chosen one's path were observed and taken into consideration. The following were among his greatest and strongest desires—to bear a family to call his own; to raise a heir from start to finish; to leave some sort of mark to be remembered by; a second chance.

Such conviction in this one! It seemed to almost rival the chosen one's even after the sudden change of fate. How could the death god deny the opportunity?

And thus was decided...

Uchiha Madara would definitely play as the Shinigami's and Kami's wild card.

* * *

Falling.

He had once been afloat, frozen in stagnancy for what felt like an eternity. But now…

Down, down…

He could see his steady descent to the unknown—below was still pitch-black, but it was indiscernibly the floor of whatever spatial dimension of the afterlife he was in. Madara's spectral, free-falling form avoided the sky-scraping onyx pillars that formed what seemed to be a narrow hallway, as grey walls that once took the form of the dark void slowly blurred into existence. Slowly but gradually, the veil of null that once plagued his visual senses dissolved into nothingness.

His descent had come to an abrupt halt just mere feet away from the manifested ground before he was promptly drawn forcibly forward. Additional darkness melted back into the crevices beyond him and before he knew it, Uchiha Madara was standing face-to-face with the entity that defined death itself—the Shinigami.

The grim deity was robed in a white, ruined regalia that shrouded the majority of its vast and ghastly form, except its pale face and sickeningly long digits bearing stiletto-like claws. Two curved horns protruded from its forehead, preventing the tattered hood from masking its petrifying gaze. The death god's powerful aura was spine-chilling at minimal; had Madara had been alive at this very moment, he would've felt the goosebumps of blood-gone-cold that threatened to overwhelm his flesh.

"Do you know who I am, Uchiha Madara?" the Shinigami's grim and disembodied voice beckoned.

Madara, who had not trusted his voice in the very presence of death itself, nodded once shakily in confirmation. There was no other divine being that lingered in the realm of the dead, anyway.

"Good… you have been called for judgment," the deity stated. The clan lord would have held his breath if he could; the word of the Shinigami was final. There was no way to sway the divine being's ultimate decision. Right now, his fate would be decided once and for all, this moment was what countless souls before him were waiting for.

"I, the Shinigami, hereby send you… a _blessing_—your greatest desires have been answered."

Madara's facial expression was instantly riddled in both shock and disbelief at the decision. Had the death god really done that for him? He really was going to get a second chance? The Shinigami decided it time to answer his growing curiosity.

"I bestow upon you a worthy heir. But for the time being, it does not belong to you. _Yet."_ The great apparition's wicked hand reached out to firmly grasp the top of Madara's head. "First, you need to hear, listen and understand…"

Several visions of the living flooded the clan lord's mind randomly, but became more direct and focused as the death god spoke.

"Uchiha Madara—your imposter, liberator of the Kyuubi…"

"Namikaze Minato—the Yondaime Hokage, imprisoner of the Kyūbi…"

"Uzumaki Kushina—wife of the Yondaime, former jinchūriki of the Kyūbi…"

"Your heir—son of the Yondaime, current jinchūriki of the Kyūbi…"

Madara was quickly briefed upon the recent events; he even got a look at his would-be heir, who was only born hours ago in the living world.

"Product of the Yondaime's decision—fate of the heir… without your intervention," the Shinigami chillingly declared as it pressed foresight of the child's would-be experiences into the forefather's mind.

Pain. Suffering. Hatred. Sollitude. Neglect. Betrayal.

Madara went through a series of mixed expressions through it all. First was hatred and disgust for the Yondaime Hokage, but that had mellowed out to pity and sympathy as he mulled over the earlier visions. He did however, scowl at the last of the intrusive imagery invading his head; scenes of betrayal and underhanded trickery. For a village built upon his late rival's Hi no Ishi…

How _absurd._

If this child was to be his heir at the end of this, then he was not going to just sit and watch and waste his second chance. He would be the family that the child so desperately craved for; he would be the one to raise and nurture him in his times of need.

The Shinigami still had not released him from its grasp as it spoke again. "You have heard, listened and understood. Now…"

Two long and bony fingers—nails like kunai—slowly plunged into the receptacles of where his eyeballs would be. It almost felt ironic.

"From you—blood of the Uchiha; your Eternal Mangekyō Sharingan…"

Madara's vision blurred as a surge of power tapped into his skull. But as quickly as his sight deteriorated, it was restored to full clarity; the Shinigami had withdrew its talons.

"And from the mother—recessive genes of the Senju; creation of the Rinnegan…"

The deity seemed to grin wickedly in an amused manner. "As for you…"

The clan lord felt himself slipping away as the Shinigami continued to speak; it felt like he was dying all over again. But instead of resisting as he had done in life before, he willingly allowed the darkness overtake him. _Again._

"Live on within your heir—guide him… set your mark upon the living, _Uchiha Madara…"_

* * *

**End of chapter.**

**Naruto is really strong.**

**Naruto will have the same personality Madara.**

_**Last sentence of the chapter. Two phrases.**_

_Each will be much more sociable the poorer in spirit, and in general, most vulgar (which makes the gregarious man is precisely the inner poverty). For in the world, do not have much beyond the choice between loneliness and vulgarity - **Arthur Schopenhauer.**_

_Instead of being always and exclusively occupied with plans for the future and care, or to surrender to the nostalgia of the past, we should never forget that only the present is real and true, the future, by contrast, has almost always different from what we thought **-**_** Arthur Schopenhauer.**


	2. Chapter 2

_**I do not own Naruto.**_

_**author - Rikudou Naruto.**_  
_**beta-reading - Arcross.**_  
_**My community C2 - Rikudou Naruto.**_

_**Second chapter.**_

* * *

Six years passed since Naruto's birth and eventual revelation of his jinchūriki status by the reinstated Sandaime Hokage.

To put it simply, Uchiha Madara was not exactly a happy man.

Ever since he had been sealed into his new heir by the Shinigami itself, he had been stuck wandering alone in some kind of run-down sewage network of some sort. Soon enough and much to his disappointment, he had discovered that the industrial dump turned out to be the mental landscape for the boy.

It looked pitiful to say the least.

It had taken Madara a very long time—perhaps years in real-time—to figure out the kinks of adjusting the environment. So when the time came when he had finally figured it all out, the forefather was quick to renovate it to look more… proper for residence, and more homely.

Instead of resembling an under-maintained plumbing network, it now looked more akin to one of the lesser feudal castles back from his time during the clan wars. Four towering floors, one of them being dedicated to a dojo, loomed over a vast forest-like expanse that secured it from intrusion. Beyond the winding paths of lush and bark no doubt led to the second resident and, to a certain extent, his cell-mate, within Naruto's seal.

His son was no stranger to either him or the second tenant, having already met them at the ages of one and four respectively. With hardly anyone to call a friend and nobody to call a family, the boy had naturally taken Madara as his father-figure. Even when exposed to the truth of his parents years later—both of whose graves turned up empty for some reason when he went to retrieve the Yin remnants of chakra for the Kyūbi one night—the child did not seem to care all that much, having not exactly questioned their existence. In any case, it did not change Naruto's view on Madara.

With some external aid and adjustments to the seal from the Shinigami, Madara's senses could slightly extend beyond it to perceive the world of the living through Naruto under times of stress. The change inadvertently included a gradual mingling of their—in Madara's case, dormant—chakra networks, an intriguing byproduct that turned out to beneficial rather than adverse. At times, he could establish a mental link for communication purposes with Naruto, but only short and brief statements could be sent before said link cut off.

A few of Madara's experimental exertions had interestingly displayed minimal yet active control of his small share of chakra within the child's network. Control of it however, like the extension of his core senses, also depended on his heir's stress levels; his influence was only strongest when Naruto triggered fight or flight responses—in other words, life-threatening situations. While his chakra was not exactly flexible let alone malleable, it had allowed Madara the usage of short-term genjutsu to influence Naruto's immediate surroundings when the need arose.

No, he was not unhappy with the internal developments thus far, the opposite actually; what did anger him however, were the civilians and even some shinobi of the outside world.

One instance of his source of anger was the most recent attempt on Naruto's life.

Years ago, they—civilians and shinobi alike—had indeed been informed of the child being a jinchūriki. However, the concept of such a thing was not all too familiar to the majority party, considering such individuals had not been living among society for at least a century. Most information regarding them was classified and kept under wraps, leaving everyone except the higher ups in the darkness. Commonfolk only understood them as the ultimate sacrifice, whatever that was; those with power understood and acknowledged them as potential living weapons with an innate purpose to destroy.

So, what exactly was a jinchūriki in the eye of the public?

A breathing sacrifice to gain the bijū's favor? The harbinger of its will? The beast itself given a mortal body?

The topic was rather controversial and mostly personal; the grand majority had never witnessed a jinchūriki in action, though many would prefer to not experience such a frightening display to begin with.

But just like the lifestyle of rumors in circulation, the perception of the village's jinchūriki slowly deviated from the truth. Hearsay as of the last year or so had it that Naruto was the avatar of the bijū's will; others believed him to be the bijū in human form. Such beliefs had drawn several parties of individuals set on ending the child's—and ultimately the biju's—life once and for all.

That last attempt had only stirred the pyres of Madara's growing anger. For the time being, it was not a roaring flame, but with enough fuel and time, it likely would be. Given the premeditative nature of the attack, Naruto had instantly forfeited himself to the familiar state of panic. The sudden surge of adrenaline in his system had in turn brought Madara's limited control to its peak. The war veteran's response to the boy's situation was, naturally, a genjutsu of his liking.

Mass hysteria—simple, yet dangerous.

Especially against those easily moved by their emotions, or those that lack ideal control of them.

In the attackers' case, Madara had played on their innate fear of the beast within, as well as their rage. He had led them into an illusion to believe that they had caught the boy and killed him—though he was very much safe and alive. However, they had taken far too long to finish the deed before it was too late. One by one, they had completely given in to their emotions and the illusion entirely.

The growing paranoia gnawing at their sanity by the end of it had destroyed all semblance of their rationality. Friend and foe was no longer a familiar concept; everything was taken in at face value. So when they had experienced the acts of violence before them, their fear of the beast had extended towards fear of each other; nobody wanted to be on the receiving end of the brutality. Naturally, the solution to it was...

...to turn against one another.

Each individual was driven by fear and the will to survive, paying no mind to the senseless and reckless slaughter between them. The last man standing, who eventually regained his senses after calming down from the emotional distress, had finally became aware of the events that took place during the attack as he was apprehended by the ANBU.

At the end of the bloody massacre...

Body count of six—respective families given condolences from friends and relatives alike, with proper burials pending within the week. One survivor, a victim of psychological trauma and dementia—guilty for murder, charged the ultimate punishment of execution, or seppuku.

The man ended up hesitating at the last second when given the tantō to perform. Moments later, a family name, the final vestiges of honor and exactly one head rolled off a pair of slump shoulders altogether.

A fitting end for a would-be murderer of his son.

The second instance to fuel Madara's seething hatred was yet another round of contaminated leftovers at the orphanage.

First to the table, but last to eat—scraps of cold and already-chewed or eaten food, that is. Initially, the matrons had served him food laced with powerful toxins in hopes of making it appear as if his death were an accident. Fortunately or unfortunately, all it ever gave him was a stomachache and an uncomfortable case of diarrhea. The boy walked it off every single time—even thanking them for such a good meal—after the first day. By then, they were beyond confused and eventually deemed it too expensive to maintain their efforts.

This was their solution in the end, being far too chicken to literally muddy their hands with Naruto's blood.

Their efforts however, proved to be rather beneficial and even advantageous on the boy's part.

Fortunately for Madara, the Kyūbi had refused to simply keel over and die in such a shameful and ridiculous fashion—almost as bad as drowning in a puddle, it had argued once upon a time—and immediately worked to counteract the paralytic toxins shortly after the boy had foolishly finished his meal. The second meal only worked to grate the beast's nerves and patience, so rather than simply try and negate the adversity that came with the food, it had worked to assimilate the foreign toxins into the boy's immune system. The small bits of experimentation on the Kyūbi's part were rather intriguing after the first day when the results came back.

It was clear that Naruto had quickly claimed extremely high tolerance to all things venomous—apparently—and unclean; though natural in his case, the immunity had formed rather quickly. What wasn't natural, but caught the interest of the beast anyway, were dysfunctional chakra coils producing foreign chakra in the boy's system. It eventually turned out to be a new nature of chakra showcasing very corrosive properties, though the presence of it was weak and absolutely unusable in its state.

Shortly after the discovery, the beast had requested an audience with its host and fellow cell-mate before blessing it with the moniker of _Acid Release_.

Madara and Naruto didn't complain or object to the newly-dubbed Acid Release; as long as it didn't harm the boy, it was more than welcomed.

And of course, the last source of anger was the fact that he had yet to find his pathetic excuse of an imposter.

That man, the one who dared to gallivant the world of the living with his name, was going to pay dearly for the many wrongs he did.

* * *

A thin-faced Naruto sat on the soft couch in the Hokage's office, having been escorted there unwillingly by ANBU not even a day after the orphanage had booted him out. His amethyst-tinted eyes aimlessly swept around the room, finding nothing to attract his attention as he waited for the Hokage to arrive. He unconsciously swept the pale-grey bangs away from his face, its texture soft to his little fingers. It had originally been a bright blonde years ago, but the color had slowly dulled away to grey and even black, much like his view of the world. With the amount of physical changes that had occurred to him, including the absence of the scars on his cheeks, it almost seemed as if he transformed into a different person during his time at the orphanage.

That wasn't surprising, in a way.

A few moments later, the doors of the office opened, revealing a robed, light-skinned man in his seventies. His white attire included a red triangular hat with the kanji for Fire inscribed on it, dipped low enough to veil his hair long-gone white and grey with age. The sharp markings accenting the corners of his eyes would have portrayed a sharp look had his many wrinkles not mellowed out the overall image. In his mouth resided an ornate smoking pipe that occasionally shifted to the left and right, a small habit of his.

However, anyone who had seen the man with their own two eyes would know better than to dismiss him as a harmless, aged man just waiting to retire to his grave.

This was Sarutobi Hiruzen, the Sandaime Hokage of Konoha.

"Good morning, Naruto-kun," the old man greeted with a friendly smile, walking towards the seating arrangement that Naruto sat upon, "how are you doing?"

"I'm fine, Hokage-sama. Thanks for asking," Naruto replied monotonously, sparing only a mere glance at the man before looking away. Madara had taught him well as far as displaying very little of his feelings went.

Hiruzen grimaced briefly at the child's lack of emotion, but shelved a discussion regarding his behavior for another time. "I am aware that you were expelled from the orphanage recently," he quietly began.

_'Appear weak and frail,' _Madara advised from beyond the seal.

Gradually, Naruto curled up his knees to his chest, lightly hugging his shins with both arms. His eyes then redirected themselves to the floor. This, Madara had told him once before, was to portray a frail and weak child. "Yes, Hokage-sama, they kicked me out at night..."

"It's a shame to hear," Hiruzen sadly spoke, "but fortunately, I have already arranged a small apartment for you."

Naruto shook his head at the offer. "That won't be necessary, Hokage-sama, I already found a place to stay. It's an empty cabin on the outskirts of the forest, but I'd like to live there." His gaze still did not leave the floor.

The aged Hokage studied the child briefly for any sign of uncertainty, but hopelessly read nothing from the boy's demeanor. "Very well then, if that is what you wish," a defeated Hiruzen sighed, expelling a cloud of smoke through his nostrils. "Tell me, Naruto-kun... what do you think of starting the academy? I've already made plans for your enrollment in several months, in case you wanted to go."

_'Accept the offer; it can help us later.'_

On the outside, Naruto falsely brightened up. "Really? I'd love to go! Thank you so much, Hokage-sama!" he cried. He didn't think the academy would help him, but if his father told him it would, then he would put up with it. He was right about things thus far, after all.

A slightly relieved Hiruzen smiled at the change of behavior. "That's great to hear. Now, you should use this time to make your place as comfortable as you can make it. If you need anything, please let me know."

A nod was sent his way as the boy made his way out of his office. As Naruto's hand touched the handle, he was roughly pushed back on his rear as someone loudly barged inside.

"Jiji!" a feminine voice cheerfully shouted, the person temporarily unaware of Naruto's fallen form.

In his mind, Naruto spouted a large string of curses as he reluctantly set his gaze on the one who knocked him down. Before him was a short redhead, not too much taller than himself, around eight years in age donning the vest worn by most Chūnin in the village.

Naruto was no fool; he knew who she was all too well. He had first seen her through brief visions with the aid of the Kyūbi, along with his mother and father by blood—both of whose graves turned up empty for some reason when he went to retrieve the Yin remnants of chakra for the Kyūbi one night. In person, she had always—still does—sent him looks of pity, remorse, guilt or shame. When they had crossed paths on the rare occasion, she only sped off past him with her head dipped down low.

By all rights and purposes, she was Namikaze Kyoko, his older sister.

And it was because of that, that Naruto began to question her point of view. Did she see him as a stranger, or just a demon in human skin? Was she aware that he was her younger brother? In any case, he was confused as to why she never approached him; it nearly seemed as if she actively avoid confrontation with him.

She of course knew that the boy she knocked down was her younger brother; ever since the day she had accidentally overheard her godparents, Jiraiya and Mikoto, talking about him while training with Itachi, she had. It was painful to see him at times, the fate he had been dealt with by their own father. Kyoko only hoped that there came a time when she could reveal his much-deserved legacy to everyone else; that way, they could live together, just as a brother and sister should.

Naruto had other plans, and that included giving her the cold shoulder she gave him one too many times, regardless if she meant it or not. His response made her visibly deflate.

"Hn," he uncaringly grunted out, quickly exiting without sparing a second glance at her or the Hokage.

* * *

A year swiftly passed since that encounter with Kyoko at the Hokage's office, and several months after his enrollment in the academy.

Within that same span, the number of attacks only increased, and the point of view on Naruto only seemed to worsen over time. His heir brushed most of them off all the same, many thanks to Madara's genjutsu manifesting through Naruto. There was a time, however, when he sent a small group of children one year his senior to the hospital when they tried to gang up on him. That event blackened the views of many civilians, much to both Naruto's and Madara's annoyance.

With the lack of attention from the academy instructors, who had freely expressed their distaste for the boy, Madara had quickly taken all extraneous training for Naruto into his own hands. There was no need to allow his heir to be a victim of sabotaged learning when he was the direct and closest remedy for that.

And so it came to be that Naruto would begin his daily drills at the crack of dawn until sundown, completely organized and optimized by Madara himself. The clan head, who oversaw the boy's progress, sought to push the boy to his limits—be it mental or physical—in preparation of the abysmal future that would befall his heir.

Each day, Naruto would run around Konoha for three hours straight, the whole time equipped with extremely heavy weights that eventually totaled up to an agonizing six times his body weight. At night, he would put up with an intensive study or extended training period personally hosted by his father. Madara would teach him all about the shinobi arts, covering topics such as fūinjutsu, kenjutsu and even bōjutsu—when the time came when Naruto would receive his own gunbai.

The first of many weeks had been absolutely ridiculous to say the least, and physical progress had been not much more than a simple crawl, if he could even manage that with the insane amount of weight shackling his feet to the ground, that is. It had taken quite some time before he could manage to make his first step forward, and longer yet before he could walk. Even now, jogging was a chore and extremely taxing on his endurance. The training regimen Madara had originally set up for him several months back paled in comparison to the new one.

This, Madara reasoned, was done so that he could overcome the so-called geniuses of Konoha, and show them what a real genius could do.

Within the extended training periods, Madara had eventually deemed it appropriate enough to guide Naruto through the original Uchiha style of taijutsu; one that could stand alone without the reliance of the clan's Sharingan, rather than the watered-down style that revolved completely around the ocular powers given by the eye. Naruto had naturally taken all of his genjutsu sessions like a fish to water, having demonstrated perfect emulation of multiple genjutsu techniques even after only being shown once, with some help from the inherited Eternal Mangekyō Sharingan.

Naruto's chakra control and reserves, for his age, was absolutely mind-blowing—though Madara had suspected that the Kyūbi had played some part in that respect. It was because of this that he was, by far, the greatest prodigy in ninjutsu in the forefather's eyes even if he couldn't handle techniques above B-rank yet. Still, he had locked away the boy's ocular powers of the Rinnegan as a precautionary measure until Naruto reached the age of fifteen. Madara did not believe him ready for the indomitable stress that the eye would bring upon Naruto's being just yet.

Today, Naruto once more found himself going through a sequence of familiar hand signs before calling out, "Katon: Gokyaku no Jutsu!"

A large breath of fire erupted from his mouth, quickly occupying the empty space of air that lay between him and the trees on the other side. The infernal creation hovered over the grass as he channeled the jutsu, slowly dissipating in both power and size as he released control of it.

_'Well done, Naruto,'_ Madara praised from within the seal, _'you have proven yourself worthy of the Uchiha blood coursing through you. Next... perform a wind jutsu.'_

_'Hai, tou-san,'_ he replied mentally before quickly going through the hand seals of the next jutsu. "Futon: Shinkudaigyoku!" [Wind Release: Vacuum Great Sphere]

From this technique, a great sphere of transparent wind shot from between his lips, barreling in the direction of the many trees before him. The fierce ball vicously collided against the first tree it hit before penetrating it and continuing onto the next. By the time the sphere became nothing more than harmless wind, eight trees were felled by its destructive power.

_'Now, show me the jutsu you've created,'_ the clan lord commanded.

Acknowledging the order, Naruto went through the next sequence of hand seals. "Katon: Hotarumoetatsu!" [Fire Release: Firefly Flames] he declared, spitting a small volley of insectoid fireballs towards another set of trees in the clearing. The little swarm rushed towards the first tree, splitting themselves upon impact while leaving very little damage against its bark. The flock, now double in size, flew towards the two trees in the back. This time rather than skinning the surfaces, the fireballs detonated in a cloud of flames, engulfing both trees in a blazing fire.

_'Excellent, it appears your control over this jutsu has improved greatly,'_ Madara remarked in a prideful tone.

A smile etched itself on Naruto's features at the praise; it wasn't an easy task to get the forefather to sound proud of him. _'Thanks, tou-san, but still...,'_ a small frown found its way as he continued, _'I haven't mastered this one yet. It should've split four times.'_

Madara let out a heavy sigh, knowing how diligent his heir was when it came to mastering techniques. With this one being something of his own creation, Naruto set higher standards for himself.

_'Regardless, you did very well. Remember, mastering a technique takes a great deal of time, years even; don't worry and relax a bit. Mastery will come in time.'_

Naruto externally scoffed at that. _'Easy for you to say; it's not like you have a whole village hating or trying to control you.'_

Nothing more came from the clan lord, and Naruto slumped against one of the nearby trees that were still standing after the ninjutsu practice. The surrounding forest was nice and quiet, for few dared to step foot into the dubbed Forest of Death. It relaxed his nerves as he let his eyes close, mind clearing the stress from the rigors of the day. He sat there, unmoving, for who knew how long. It was easy to lose track of time in the serene environment.

After some span of time, a new presence in the clearing startled Naruto from his calm stature, forcing him to tense up. He relaxed once more however, as he recognized it to be the only person who actually came around the forest on their own free will.

The one and only—Mitarashi Anko.

"Hey there, gaki!" Anko yelled out from above as she landed right next to him, brown pupiless eyes brightening in controlled glee. Her beige trenchcoat brushed against the boy's side, slightly tickling him as the cloth rolled over his skin.

Naruto's head tilted up to acknowledge her. "Hey, how are things going, Anko?" he quietly questioned.

"Shit, as usual," she offhandedly declared before revealing a small box of dango, "I swear the folks are getting worse by the year." She took out one of the sticks from the container, prodding his cheek with the end of it. "Want one?"

He took the sweet snack, eyeing it once before taking one into his mouth. "Yeah... they're getting too much in their heads; all because they feel invincible, or something," he replied with a mouthful of dango. "It'll be the death of them in the long run."

Anko merely shrugged—she couldn't argue against that, sharing a similar perspective as he did. She sat down against the same tree, but not before pulling Naruto into her lap and running one hand through his soft, pale hair like a docile pet. The plushy that was Naruto could only sigh; Anko would never give up that habit of hers, no matter what he would say. The first few times were rather annoying when they had first met several months back, but he had gotten used to them after reluctantly accepting the affectionate gestures.

She was the only individual in the village he actually cared for, having led a similar life to him. Unlike him however, she lived under the shadow of Orochimaru's apprentice, which brought her a very negative reputation around the village. It didn't matter that she was a brilliant kunoichi—the dark rumors that lingered like the plague always followed one step behind her everywhere she went. All hope to escape from its grasp was merely squashed so as long as she resided in the Leaf.

"So gaki, you're really going to leave the village?" Anko casually asked, the tone sounding as if she were talking about the weather as she slid another ball of dango into her mouth.

The boy absently twirled the stick of dango in his hands, debating whether or not to finish the last ball. "After I finish my training, I will. The plan is to rebuild a village in the same place where the Rikudou Sennin once lived. Tou-san told me that the ancient village was around Yuki no Kuni."

"You're not planning on going alone now, are you?" she began dangerously, plucking the last of the dango from Naruto's fingers.

Naruto's blood ran cold, shivering ever so slightly as he took in Anko's fierce look and tone. The wrong answer could mean a world of pain, knowing the person she was. "O-of course not! I mean, that is, if you want to come..."

There was a slight pause, up until Anko let out a hearty laugh; it was too much fun teasing the young lad. "Heh, relax gaki, I was just playing with you. I'll tag along no matter what—who else would be my own little plushy of a brother anyway?" she playfully remarked, shoving the stolen ball of dango into Naruto's mouth. Her fingers moved to pinch his cheeks, to which he rolled his eyes.

And once more, Naruto let out a sigh, but the ghost of a smile played upon his small lips. "Right..."

* * *

**End of chapter.**

**Leave a comment please.**

_Naruto is three years older than the Canon._

**Jutsu used in the chapter.**

_Katon - Gokyaku no Jutsu (Fire Element - Technical Grand Dragon of Fire)._

_Futon - Shinkudaigyoku [Wind Release: Vacuum Great Sphere]._

_Katon: Hotarumoetatsu [Fire Release: Fire fly Flames]._


End file.
